Olivia Dean’s New Album Finds Power in Tender Restraint
With her sophomore album, The Art of Loving, Olivia Dean solidifies her place as one of pop’s most emotionally resonant voices. After the success of her debut Messy, she could have played it safe, but instead she delivers a more assured, thoughtful collection that feels timeless without being nostalgic. Drawing from influences of soul, orchestral pop, and soft rock, Dean creates music that is classic in its structure yet undeniably her own.
Olivia Dean for The Art Of Loving
The record orbits around love in all its shades—romantic, self, and relational. Rather than reducing it to clichés of heartbreak or bliss, she explores the quiet complexities in between. Songs like “Nice to Each Other” dwell in the hesitancy of new connections, while “Man I Need” bursts with confidence, showing her ability to move from vulnerability to power. Tracks such as “Close Up” and “Baby Steps” lean inward, embracing intimacy and resilience with gentle poise. Throughout, her voice remains the anchor: expressive but restrained, carrying emotional weight without veering into melodrama.
Production across the album is warm and spacious, leaving room for her vocals to shine. Strings, brass, and subtle textures enrich the songs without overwhelming them, creating a balance of polish and sincerity. While the album maintains a consistent emotional register—sometimes at the expense of daring surprises—it makes up for it with depth, nuance, and replay value. Each listen reveals new lyrical turns and instrumental details that elevate the experience.
Songs like “Let Alone the One You Love” showcase her lyrical sharpness. “It's too much to mend / You're the hug that had to end / Though I've tried to hold on / And, if you knew me at all / You wouldn't try to keep me small / Who would do that to a friend, let alone the one you love?” capture the heartbreak of realizing that love can turn restrictive rather than nurturing. The hug metaphor evokes something once comforting, becoming suffocating, while the cutting line about being kept small highlights the pain of a partner who fails to let her grow. The final rhetorical question reframes the breakup as not just personal but moral—a refusal to accept being diminished.
In contrast, “Baby Steps” leans into resilience through small, everyday gestures. “It's learning how to balance / If I'm out on Friday night, it'll be my turnin' on them lights / When I come home / But I'll manage” frames growth as something found in routine, in the quiet acts of independence that add up to stability. The repeated “I’ll manage” functions as a mantra, somewhere between vulnerability and reassurance, reminding listeners that healing is gradual, a series of small but meaningful steps forward.
Together, these lyrical moments reveal Dean’s strength as a songwriter: she doesn’t just write about love’s highs and lows, but about the fragile spaces in between, where most real life happens. They deepen the album’s emotional arc, showing both the hurt of leaving behind a stifling love and the quiet triumph of learning to stand on your own.
Ultimately, The Art of Loving feels like a statement of maturity. It shows Olivia Dean not just as a rising pop artist but as a songwriter deeply attuned to the emotional textures of love and life. It’s an album that lingers with you—inviting reflection, swaying movement, and quiet joy. In a landscape often chasing fleeting trends, Dean’s music endures by choosing truth over spectacle.
